


A Way For Us

by betweentheheavesofstorm



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background E/R, Cosette is adorable and Éponine is an idiot, F/F, Fluff, Happy Ending, also they're in britain, stuck in a traffic jam au, though neither of them make an appearance, Éposette - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 20:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3542663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betweentheheavesofstorm/pseuds/betweentheheavesofstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Oh, fuck,' Éponine regretted bringing the subject up. 'I thought I'd repressed that memory.'</p><p>'You had a logo,' Cosette continued, with a cheerfully malicious air that was completely unlike her everyday self. 'And none of you could play instruments, so you just went around yodelling like a barbershop quartet.'</p><p>'Says the girl who sang to birds and flowers,' Éponine protested. 'Were you actually a Disney princess, or did you just want to be one?'</p><p>Cosette ignored her. 'Traffic's moving forward,' she observed, and it was.</p><p> </p><p>Eponine is the designated driver, Cosette her only passenger and now they're stuck in a traffic jam. In the rain. (See also: Eponine's idea of Hell).</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Way For Us

When Éponine agreed to be a designated driver, it was because nobody had told her what the task would actually involve. She had imagined a dull afternoon of sobriety, followed by a hilarious car ride home with Bahorel and Musichetta singing drunkenly along to the radio. One of the few members of the ABC Society who actually owned a car, Éponine had sworn not to ever let anyone else drive it after a series of hair-raising near misses.

Another thing she hadn't known was how shit the day was going to be without being able to drink, or that Bahorel and Musichetta were going to bail on her. Or that Cosette would need a lift back to London, and somehow Courfeyrac would twist things so that Éponine was driving Cosette home.

And on top of everything else, they were in standstill traffic on the M4 - a bumper-to-bumper type affair. They'd been there for a good ten minutes already. Éponine had switched off the engine and run through a choice selection of swears under her breath. In a hypothetical list of situations she could live without being in, a traffic jam with Cosette Fauchevelent was at the top.

She wouldn't even have gone to the party if she'd known Cosette was going to be there. Since the funeral that Éponine had not attended, she'd been studiously avoiding Marius's girlfriend. Well, ex-girlfriend. Death sliced through everything and left an X in its wake.

'What's happening?' Cosette had finally noticed that the car had stopped moving. She put down her book and glanced at Éponine, worry written all over her face.

'An Incident,' Éponine nodded to the traffic sign overhead. 'Must be pretty serious, there's no traffic coming from the other direction.'

'A crash?'

'Must be. Some fucker not slowing down in this weather.' As though to emphasize her point, the rain increased in volume. Water ran down the windscreen and distorted the view, turning the crisp image to a smudged oil painting.  

Cosette chewed her lip. 'I hope they're OK.'

Éponine had nothing to say to that. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and let out a sigh. All lanes were closed in both directions. It seemed highly unlikely that anyone was OK.

In the passenger seat, Cosette had taken out her phone and was texting. Éponine instinctively thought _Marius_ , and felt a stab of jealousy followed by a sharp pain.

'My dad,' Cosette said, noticing Éponine's eyes on her. 'He's been a bit extra-clingy lately, he'll be really worried if I'm not back on time.'

Éponine nodded distantly. Curfews had always been things for other people. Her parents had rarely known or cared where she was. Then again, she had met and liked Valjean, Cosette's foster father, if a little grudgingly. He'd wrongly assumed that Cosette and Éponine were friends. Cosette must have told him a little about Éponine's home life, because whenever Valjean saw her he was unbearably charitable.

Cosette had pocketed her iPhone and had resumed reading her book - a slim, arty paperback with a cream cover and red spine. Something deep, Éponine guessed, deep and romantic in a quiet and meaningful way.

With nothing else to do, she took out her own phone and composed a short message.

 

Musichetta was in the middle of a lengthy and impassioned argument about Taylor Swift when her phone buzzed. She took one look at the screen and tossed it to Bahorel.

'Fuck,' he said, and started to laugh. 'Guys, the so-called master plan has backfired.'

Joly broke off mid-response. Bahorel handed the phone over, so that he and Musichetta could read the message.

_tell courfeyrac i'm going to kill him. stuck in traffic on the m4. i hate you all._

'Shit,' said Musichetta. ' _Shit._ If they're there for too long, she's going to _eat_ Cosette.'

'Why are they together in the first place?' Bossuet called from the driver's seat. 'Did I hear mention of a plan?'

'Bridge-building,' said Musichetta, a little too casually. 'We thought they could do with some quality time. So they can heal each other or some bullshit.'

He whistled. 'She won't stop at killing Courfeyrac when she finds that out.'

'You don't say.' Bahorel had reclaimed Musichetta's phone and was typing out a reply. 'How's this?'

_we saw a sign & got off the m4 early. discovered Bossuet hates small roads and joly can't mapread. _

'Yeah, that'll cheer her up.' Musichetta rolled her eyes, though she did nothing to stop Bahorel from pressing send. Moments later, another text arrived with a ping. Bahorel read it out.

' _She's reading ya lit. JG I think? SEND HELP.'_

'Service is predicted to return to normal by 8.30.'

After a little fiddling with the radio, Éponine had tuned in to traffic warnings. So far, they'd said nothing about the cause of the delay, only that it was going to mess up everyone's schedules in a major way.

'Great,' she muttered. It was only seven now. Enjolras had kicked them out early, on the grounds that he had people coming to dinner. Knowing Enjolras and how much he hated the upperclass capitalist lifestyle adopted by his family, that excuse was bollocks. The only reason he'd agreed to host in the first place was because Courfeyrac had played the guilt card, pointing out it would do them all good to get away from the city. After that, Enjolras had embraced the party with a little too much enthusiasm. Éponine suspected that for him it had the added benefit of making a social and political statement to his parents.

As if she had read Éponine's mind, Cosette said, 'Do you think Enjolras would do it? Move in with Grantaire, I mean.'

'If he thought it would get his point across,' Éponine shrugged. 'The guy's nothing if not committed.'

'Yeah. It would be cute if he did, though a shame if annoying his parents was the only reason.'

'Given how sickening they are together, I hardly think that would be the _only_ reason,' said Éponine, unable to keep the acid from her voice. 'Besides, that's how they got together.'

'What?' Cosette's ears pricked up. 'How _did_ they get together?'

Éponine groaned inwardly. She'd forgotten that that drama had occurred before Cosette met Marius and joined the ABC.

'Enjolras had a huge fight with his parents about dating, so went and asked out the first outrageously unsuitable guy he could find,' she said. 'Only it was the most fucked-up of all situations because R had had a huge crush on him for years. It was like a fucking sitcom, the time it took for Enjolras to realise he liked R as well. Then one really drunk game of strip poker later and they were dating for real reasons.'

'Oh,' Cosette said. Then, 'That's still sort of sweet. And they're happy now, so…'

The conversation was veering off into dangerously mushy territory. Rather than change the subject, Éponine reached over and switched radio stations. Loud pop music filled the car, removing the need to make conversation. Cosette sat still for a moment, then returned to her book.

The traffic inched forwards a whole ten feet. Éponine texted Courfeyrac an _i hate you_ and got no response. He might not have any signal, she reasoned. He, Combeferre and Feuilly had taken the train. Then again, he might be too busy making out with Combeferre to notice. Fucking couples.

Another ten minutes passed. Then another five. Éponine unclipped her seatbelt and swivelled round in her seat. There were still a few bags of food in the back. She managed to grab a half-full tube of Pringles and some peanuts. Cosette glanced up and eyed the food so hungrily Éponine had no choice but to offer her some. Between mouthfuls, Cosette turned down the radio volume so they could hear each other.

'I've been wanting to ask,' she said hesitantly, 'but, I was wondering, um, why you didn't come to the funeral?'

She was plunging right in at the deep end, Éponine would give her that. On the other hand, it was the deep end of a conversation she really didn't want to have.

 'I just didn't want to go.'

Cosette blinked. It was so typical that on top of everything else, she was unfairly attractive. With pale blonde hair, warm brown eyes and zillions of freckles she was the picture of a middle-class hipster. Since a discussion with Musichetta on the subject, Éponine had tried not to indulge in internalised misogyny, but Cosette made the resolution difficult. It wasn't as if Éponine hated her _because_ she was pretty, she just hated her, well… because Marius didn't.

'I'm really sorry if we somehow made it uncomfortable,' Cosette continued. 'You were his best friend. I'm sure his grandfather would have wanted to meet you.'

Éponine seriously doubted that. She'd known Marius' grandfather a long time ago, and from what Grantaire had told her, he hadn't changed much. A self-absorbed old man, he'd fallen out with Marius years ago in some dispute about his father. The rest of the ABC hadn't known he even existed - Marius had never spoken of him - but after his death Mr Gillenormand had materialized and demanded control of his grandson's estate. Éponine and a number of legal documents had proved he was legit, although the ABC regarded him with mixed feelings.

To Cosette he had been polite and complimentary, and as her nature was to see the best in everyone the two had got along rather well. Enjolras, on the other hand, had to be escorted out of the room by Combeferre after hearing Gillenormand's political views.

'I had something on that day,' she said, in response to Cosette's comment. It wasn't entirely a lie, getting wasted with Montparnasse surely counted as 'something'.

The other girl frowned. 'You were just as much his family as anyone else. He would have liked you to be there.'

'Well, I wasn't. I'm sure he's highly disappointed, up in Heaven.'

The rain was falling so hard and fast that Éponine had to switch the radio off in order to be heard. Now the engine was off completely, she was conscious of how cold it was in the car. While driving, the heating had been on full blast to combat the cold February day outside, but the longer they sat still the chillier it became.

'Um,' said Cosette, looking both distressed by the argument and more than a little cold. 'Could we turn the heater on, maybe?'

'That means keeping the engine on,' Éponine replied tightly. 'If we do that we won't have enough fuel to get us home.' _And I can't afford any more_ , she added silently.

'It's OK,' Cosette said quickly. 'I think I have a sweater in the back. Do you have anything you can put on?'

'Maybe a blanket or something,' Éponine admitted. She was about to reach for it when Cosette climbed out of her seat and clambered awkwardly into the back, trying not to squash the food.

'My sweater's here,' she said, tossing it forward. 'And there's a blanket, a blue one. Is that all right?'

'It's fine,' Éponine said quickly, unsure whether to be annoyed or impressed by her companion's antics.

'Hey, looks like you picked up Joly's Thermos by mistake.' Cosette gave the flask an experimental shake and tucked it under her arm for the return trip. Once she was safely back in the passenger seat she unscrewed the top and gave it a sniff. 'Huh, smells just like regular coffee. Want some?'

'Why not?' Éponine shrugged. It would help wash down the Pringles.

There was only one Thermos cup, so they took turns. Joly's coffee wasn't bad either, though Éponine wished it had something stronger in it. With the blanket wrapped around her and some caffeine, she was starting to feel a lot better, to the point when Cosette suggested they play obnoxious family car games she found herself agreeing.

'There's one, where you pick something, say a dog or a colour or anything, and you say _bing_ every time you see it,' explained Cosette, pouring out herself a share of the coffee.

'I can imagine how well that'll work in stationary traffic,' said Éponine.

'I-Spy, then?'

To that she consented. Cosette turned out to be worryingly good at it, choosing obscure things such as 'air freshener', 'exhaust' and 'curb'.

'How much practice have you had?' Éponine asked, having failed to guess 'bicep'.

Cosette laughed. 'Me and my mum used to drive down to Cornwall every year,' she said. 'When I was younger. There were some very competitive games of I-Spy and more singalongs than I care to admit.'

'God, I remember you as a kid. You were at Petit Picpus Primary, weren't you? Had blond pigtails tied up with little bows and you used to sing in class, too.'

Cosette tried not to blush and failed. Her pale complexion was traitorous in times like these. 'Didn't you sing? I have a vague memory of a rock band composed of all the cool kids.'

'Oh, _fuck,'_ Éponine regretted bringing the subject up. 'I thought I'd repressed that memory.'

'You had a logo,' Cosette continued, with a cheerfully malicious air that was completely unlike her everyday self. 'And none of you could play instruments, so you just went around yodelling like a barbershop quartet.'

'Says the girl who sang to birds and flowers,' Éponine protested. 'Were you actually a Disney princess, or did you just want to be one?'

Cosette ignored her. 'Traffic's moving forward,' she observed, and it was.

Éponine restarted the engine, drove all of five yards and turned it off again. Her phone beeped.

'Bet that's Bahorel,' she muttered darkly. 'They found out about the delays and took a different route. Probably home by now.' She looked at the screen, but the name wasn't Bahorel's. Hastily, Éponine put her phone aside. She was too slow; Cosette had caught a glance.

' _Montparnasse?_ Éponine really, are you still talking to him?'

She didn't respond. It wasn't any of Cosette's business who she associated with. Not that Cosette seemed to know that.

'Look, I'm not your mum or anything, but you know Montparnasse is bad news. He _hit_ you for gods' sake! Marius told me.'

'I'm not _dating_ him,' said Éponine, angry at being provoked into a response. She was too tired to have this fight, right now, with Cosette who alternated between charming and insufferable. 'And for the record, he never hit me. He just never said anything when his friends did.'

'Oh, that makes it all better then,' Cosette snapped. Éponine had never seen her this angry before, especially not on someone else's behalf. 'He wasn't _as much_ of a dick as he could have been.'

'Why do you care? _We're_ not friends - you dated Marius and I was his friend, so we tolerated each other.'

'OK, we aren't friends. Maybe I'd like us to be.'

'So we can do what, sit around braiding each others' hair and reminiscing about the good old days when Marius was alive?'

'No,' said Cosette, and took a breath to steady herself. 'So you don't have to fall back on _Montparnasse_ when you're feeling lonely.'

 _That's fucking charitable of you_ , Éponine nearly said. 'I'm not sleeping with him, either.'

'What, then? What could he have that you would need? You're the toughest person I know, and - '

'He always has booze and he never asks questions,' Éponine interrupted. 'And in regard to toughness: you do know Bahorel used to play American football, right?'

'Sport aside,' Cosette shook her head. 'Look - please stay away from Montparnasse? I really don't want to turn on the news one morning and find you've been discovered dead in an alley somewhere. Not that you couldn't take him, but he has scary friends.'

Belatedly, Éponine remembered that Claquesous and Gueulemer had mugged Cosette one time, stealing her phone and the little change she had on her. They hadn't done anything else, but it had still nearly given Marius a heart attack. It had freaked him out so much Éponine had been on the verge of yelling at Claquesous and Gueulemer herself to leave her crush's girlfriend alone.

Looking over at Cosette now, Éponine realised another important fact had slipped her mind. Cosette had been careful not to mention it, but Éponine was pretty sure there had been bullying of some kind back in their schooldays.

'Hey,' she said, because she had absolutely no filter between her mind and her mouth sometimes. 'Was I a bitch to you when we were kids?'

Cosette blinked. 'I thought you remembered.'

'Fuck, what did I do?'

'Well, you called me names, laughed at my clothes and um, at swimming one time you pushed me in the deep end even though I couldn't swim yet. The lifeguard had to fish me out, and you said it was an accident.'

'Fuck,' Éponine repeated. 'I'm sorry. I know that it doesn't mean a thing now, but I am. If it helps, nothing I did was ever personal. My parents were shit to me so I was shit to everyone else. Vicious circle and all that crap.'

'I thought that was why you hated me,' Cosette confessed, her eyes fixed resolutely on the windscreen. 'Because you did when you were a kid, I mean.'

 _I never hated you_ , Éponine wanted to say, and perhaps it was true now. She didn't have the energy hate required anymore, and something had even happened to her usually deep reserve of spite.

Yet even if she had revised her opinion now, she couldn't deny there was a time when she had hated Cosette bitterly and with all her heart. Part of it was anger at her own naïve assumption that Marius would notice her someday, only to be proven false, and the rest was pure jealousy.

'I don't hate you,' she said, instead. Don't, present tense.

Cosette smiled awkwardly. 'That's a relief, or this car journey would get a lot worse.' Her smile was annoyingly beautiful, lighting up her face and enhancing the cupid's bow of her lips.

'Music?' Éponine suggested, because the rain had stopped and she wasn't sure how much heart-to-heart she could take.

Cosette looked grateful. 'Good call.'

 

Éponine's music was all horrible. They'd switched from the radio to the CD player, sick of hearting the same chartbusting song over and over. Now, listening to her favourite albums, Éponine wished they hadn't.

It wasn't that she didn't like her music - _she_ could appreciate its awfulness and hold it in high esteem at the same time. On the other hand, it wasn't the sort of thing she imagined Cosette would like. To her credit, Cosette hadn't said anything. She had been a bit taken aback at some of the lyrics, but aside from the occasional text (which was fair game, they were both on their phones) she expressed no opinion.

Against her better judgement, Éponine found herself imagining the content of those texts - something along the lines of _her music is so awful oh my god get me out of here_ \- so it was a pleasant surprise to get a text from Courfeyrac: _éponine thénardier u have found the 1 person on the planet apart from bahorel (who has no taste anyway) who likes ur music. MARRY HER NOW!!!_

Instead of asking Cosette directly like a normal person, Éponine replied to Courfeyrac: _what did she say?_

The response was almost instantaneous. _something along the lines of 'weird but also cool'. talk to her urself like a normal person!!_

Sighing, Éponine put her phone away. The car wasn't moving, but she was still getting a dirty look from other drivers. 'Do you actually like this CD, or are you lying to make Courfeyrac happy?'

Cosette jumped guiltily. 'No, I do. It's very…you.' Shitty but enjoyable? Éponine couldn't tell if that was a compliment or not. She didn't know if she wanted it to be a compliment. 'And I went through a Green Day phase too.'

'You're kidding me.' Try as she might, Éponine couldn't picture Cosette ever standing on her bed, belting out the lyrics to _Holiday._

'No, I'm not. Isn't it compulsory for every twelve-year-old?'

'Someone should tell Gavroche that.'

'Why, what does he listen to?'

'God, you don't want to know. At least he hates my dad's shit.'

'Marius had such awful music taste.' Cosette's smile was wistful.

'You're telling me. The guy would listen to anything he could get his hands on and try to convince us all it was the second coming.' Éponine downed the last of the coffee.

'The worst was the Bjork,' Cosette accepted the now-empty Thermos cup and screwed it back onto the flask. 'I really didn't get her songs.'

Conversation was becoming alarmingly easy, Éponine realised, as they swapped the highs and lows of Marius's music taste. It was easy to talk about being friends, but the actual act of being friendly was, well, something different. Cosette was funnier than she'd thought, sharper, and less naïve.

Neither of them were the princesses they'd been as children, the difference was Cosette still looked the part. Éponine was no longer hung up on her appearance, either in a positive or negative way. A rebellious part of her still enjoyed making people look away with the hollow shadows under her eyes, premature lines on her skin and the savage glare she could muster at the drop of a hat. Since taking responsibility for caring for herself she was no longer as emaciated and beaten-down as she had been, but neither was she the glowing picture of health.

It didn't feel right to be sharing a car with Cosette now, to laugh at Cosette's jokes and watch the dying sun turn her hair to fine-spun gold. Cosette had faced her share of demons and emerged kinder and warmer than anybody had a right to be. Éponine had certainly _survived_ her battles, with the consequence of becoming colder and even bitterer. Marius had been the light in her life, only he was gone and Cosette was sitting there instead, pure and good and _hopeful_ , and Éponine felt guilty for wanting her energy.

The traffic was inching forward. They finished the remainder of the food, and played with the apps on Cosette's phone. She read her and Éponine's horoscopes, took various quizzes and had a lot of fun putting the names of ABC members into a love tester game.

'Courf and Combeferre,' Éponine suggested.

Cosette tapped in the names. '53%. _There's something there, but is it love?_ Hang on, let's try R and Enjolras.'

'Jehan and somebody?'

After reading Enjolras and Grantaire's rating (97%, _a perfect match)_ Cosette paired up Jehan with Feuilly and then Bahorel. Both times the reading was over seventy, leading them to conclude that Jehan Prouvaire was just a romantic name.  ('He is a poet,' Cosette reasoned. 'It makes sense.)

At twenty past eight, they finally were able to pull off at a motorway services. Éponine only intended to use the toilets, but when she returned Cosette was waiting in the queue at Subway.

'Don't worry, I locked the car,' she said, as Éponine approached. 'You want a sandwich? It's on me.'

Éponine accepted, only semi-reluctantly. She didn't like being bought things, only her stomach was growling so loudly she didn't dare refuse. Cosette got them soft drinks as well, and they claimed one of the window booths to sit in while they ate.

'It's turned into a bit of an adventure, hasn't it?' Cosette observed, between bites.

'You are remarkably easy to impress,' said Éponine. 'Dating you must be a breeze.'

'Anyone can win me over with two words,' Cosette replied, in a conspiratorial tone. 'Disney movies.'

Though her own sort of dates smelled of cigarettes and whiskey, Éponine couldn't deny that sounded appealing. She was about to say something when her phone rang, cutting short any moment they'd been having. If the name on the caller ID had been any other she would have ignored it. As it was, she couldn't afford to.

'Sorry, I should get this.' Excusing herself hurriedly, Éponine squeezed out of the booth and made her way over to the Marks & Spencer and out of earshot.

'What is it?' she hissed into the phone.

' _Finally.'_ Montparnasse sounded irritated. 'You didn't reply to my message. I need an answer. Are you up for working tonight?'

Éponine stared at the display rack of overpriced crisps. It was astonishing what some people would pay for flavoured strips of potato.

Tonight, Patron-Minette - Montparnasse's stupid gang - wanted to play burglars for fun. Break into a few rich houses and take what they wanted. Not for the money, but for the savage glee of reminding people their homes weren't safe, and neither were they.

'I'm not in London,' she said. 'Traffic on the M4. Some accident. Don't know when I'll get back.'

'You said you'd be around.'

'Yeah, when I wasn't stuck on the motorway. And some other stuff's come up. You have fun tonight; I won't be there.' Niceties would be lost on Montparnasse, so she hung up without a goodbye.

 

Returning to the table, Éponine saw Cosette being badgered by an ordinary-looking young man with a scruffy neckbeard. He was sitting in Éponine's place, and was unsuccessfully trying to chat up Cosette.

'I'm waiting for a friend,' she kept saying. 'Please, I would like it if you left me alone.'

'What, is it your boyfriend?' Neckbeard leant across the table. 'He's not here though, is he? So what's wrong with giving me a chance? I'm a nice guy when you get to know me.'

Cosette looked about as happy as if he'd produced a sack of tarantulas and emptied them onto the table. 'No, I'm here with my - '

'Girlfriend,' Éponine had heard enough. She hoped Cosette was down with the Angry Lesbian method of getting rid of guys. 'Did you want anything?'

Neckbeard took in the tangled hair, copious eyeliner and ratty black clothes, and was suitably intimidated. 'Shouldn't leave such a pretty girl alone by herself,' he drawled, getting up slowly.

'Because stupid fucks like yourself can't take a hint when she's not interested?' Éponine slid an arm around Cosette in a falsely convincing manner.

Muttering expletives, Neckbeard retreated out of earshot. Conscious that he was still in sight, Cosette shuffled to make space for Éponine to sit next to her. Éponine's arm was still around her shoulder.

'He's over by the casino,' Éponine murmured, her free hand brushing a strand of hair out of Cosette's face. 'Sorry about the dating thing. I probably should have checked first.'

'Its OK.' Cosette looked like she was containing a laugh. 'He looks quite angry.'

'Of course he does. Godless gays are destroying the sanctity of marriage, didn't you know?'

'Aaand he's gone. Do you want to move, or ….' Cosette nodded at Éponine's half eaten sub, over the other side of the table.

‘I think I might be stuck,’ Éponine admitted, extending a hand to pull the sandwich towards her. ‘Mind if I stay here?’

'Sure. Thanks for getting rid of him. How was your phone call?'

'It was OK. Cancelled my evening plans. Got a whole night of cockroach hunting planned instead.'

'Are you still living with Bahorel?'

'Nah, we got evicted from that place. He's crashing with Bossuet now and I get a Bug Palace all to myself.' She'd intended it to sound self-deprecating, but it came out self-pitying. Not wanting to say anything else incriminating, Éponine concentrated on finishing off her sub.

Neither girl said anything more until they reached the car. When leaving the Subway, Cosette had reached out and taken Éponine's hand. Assuming Neckbeard was somewhere in sight, Éponine had let her, even altering her pace so they could walk in step. It was only when she let go to unlock the door and scanned the car park that she realised Neckbeard had left, and taken his creepiness with him.

 

They got into London just after ten, after horrendous traffic on the M25. The radio was back on, and they were listening to the news. Éponine remembered the way to Cosette's house, but Cosette told her anyway.

Éponine planned on staying in the car, only Cosette invited her in for a cup of tea and she was too tired not to refuse. For a barely strenuous day, Éponine was exhausted.

It was absurdly cosy inside the flat Cosette shared with her father. The theme of the décor was simple but sweet; the rug was green, the walls blue and the curtains pale yellow. With the bowl of goldfish and crooked wooden shelving (upon which rested half a dozen mismatched mugs) it made Éponine think of a fairytale cabin.

She sat on a squishy sofa while the kettle boiled. Cosette was flitting about here and there, on a quest for biscuits. In a remote part of Éponine's brain she knew staying was a bad idea; she and Cosette weren't the sort of friends who sat around and gossiped by choice. Sooner or later she would have to head back to her crummy flat with the stained upholstery and cracked windows. Just thinking about it made her head hurt.

'My dad should be hone soon,' Cosette handed over a cup of steaming tea and glanced up at the clock; a pretty timepiece decorated with garden birds.

'Shit, I should go.' Éponine set her mug down with a clunk. Her flat was on the other side of town. With the traffic as it was it would take forever to get home.

'He won't mind you,' Cosette said quickly. 'If you like, I could make up a bed…'

'No, it's late. I-' Éponine made to get up. Cosette moved at the same time, trying to tug her back down, and in the ensuing scuffle of movement their heads bumped and their lips found each other.

Éponine's brain ceased to function. She couldn't think, she mustn't think or she would laugh or burst into tears. One of her hands was in Cosette's impossibly soft hair and the other on the small of her back, holding her close. Cosette's lips were very soft on hers, and they tasted of tea and lemon and sweetness.

Then Cosette jerked away suddenly, her cheeks red as a ketchup bottle. 'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done - '

Éponine was incapable of speech. The other girl's face was so close, if she wanted she could count the freckles on her nose. All she could do was lean in and kiss Cosette again, because it was right, it was nice, and now she understood how Grantaire felt when he talked of kissing angels.

This time when they broke apart, it was Cosette who was breathless.

'Don't say anything,' Éponine whispered, resting her forehead against Cosette's. 'In a minute I'm going to go, and you can come and close the door behind me. And we'll go on not being friends and not speaking about this, because I'll just end up wanting you and you won't -  '

'But - '

'Don't.' Drawing a deep breath, Éponine turned and fled. She didn't look back, not at the cute and cosy room, not at Cosette who was cuter and cosier than anything she ever thought she’d like.

Outside, the rain had resumed falling. She splashed through a puddle angrily, letting the muddy water soak her shoes and socks. As it often did when it was wet, the driver's side door of her car was all seized up. It took three tries to get open, worsening Éponine's mood.

'Wait!' Cosette had emerged from her doorway, bright as a candle flame in the rain. She darted across to where Éponine stood, and caught hold of her elbow. 'Don't go.'

'Why not?' Éponine whirled around, sudden fire blazing in her eyes. She hated Cosette then, more vehemently than ever before. None of her previous crimes compared to making Éponine feel like this. She wanted to stay with her and laugh with her and destroy her. It was similar to how she'd felt about Marius; only Marius had never looked at her this way.   

'If you don't want to stay, you don't have to.' Cosette's gaze was steady and unwavering. 'I just want you to know you can. If you want to.'

'I want to,' said Éponine, astonished at how easily the words spilled from her mouth. 'But I can't, I'll ruin it all. I don't want to ruin you.'

'God, 'Ponine, won't you ever give yourself a break? This could be an ever after, or just one night less lonely than the others. _It doesn't matter which._ It's worth a try.'

Éponine let herself visualise it for a moment, and was lost. It sounded too perfect, one last stab at paradise. Cosette extended her hand.

'Come and be stupid and stubborn and argue with me.'

Éponine took it. 'When it all goes wrong, I can't wait to say _I told you so.'_


End file.
